


Traditions

by RileyC



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 01:09:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RileyC/pseuds/RileyC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Batfam and "A Visit from Saint Nicholas" down through the years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Traditions

**Author's Note:**

> "A Visit From Saint Nicholas" was written by Clement Clark Moore.

As Alfred and Martha put the final touches to the decorations, Thomas settled on the sofa and opened the picture book. “Are we ready?” he asked as Bruce scooted close, slippered feet tucked under him.

“Uh-huh.”

Outside, snow blanketed Gotham and the Manor; inside, all was warm and cozy with soft music in the background. Thomas cleared his throat and began to read:

“’Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house  
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;  
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,  
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;  
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,  
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads--”

“I’ve never dreamed about sugar-plums,” Bruce said around a yawn.

“Maybe tonight,” Thomas said and exchanged a smile with Martha. She sat down beside them as he read on:

“And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,  
Had just settled down for a long winter’s nap,  
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,  
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter…”

***  
“Away to the window I flew like a flash,” Alfred read as Bruce sat at the other end of the sofa, somber gaze fixed on the portrait of his parents, lit by the glow of Christmas tree. “Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.” He paused, marking his place with a thumb. “Master Bruce? Shall I continue?”

“If you want to.”

He sighed, nodded. “Very good.” He found his place:

“The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,  
Gave the luster of mid-day to objects below,  
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,  
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,  
With a little old driver, so lively and quick--”

Bruce climbed down off the sofa and smoothed out his robe. “I think I’ll go to bed now, Alfred. Good night.”

“Good night, Master Bruce,” Alfred said. He brushed a hand across his eyes—his allergies were bad just lately—sighed and got up to put the book away. He looked around the room, the beautiful decorations, the presents that had been wrapped and put away before… Well, before. With another sigh, and a glance at the portrait, he unplugged the lights.

***  
“Hey!” Bruce caught hold of Dick as the boy tried to do a handstand on the back of the sofa. “Settle down.”

“But I can do it one-handed!”

“You can show me later.”

“But--”

Stern, Bruce pointed; truculent, Dick settled down on the couch. “Fine.

“Good.”

Alfred rolled his eyes and pinned up a stocking—and smiled as he listened to Bruce reading the old poem aloud to the boy who had brought so much sunshine back into this house.

“…I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.  
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,  
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name--”

Dick joined in at that point, turning the recital into a duet:

“’Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!  
On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!’”

“You should add Rudolph.”

“He hadn’t been invented yet.”

“Well he should have been.”

“Well he wasn’t and it wouldn’t rhyme.”

“Huh.”

Alfred bit his lip to keep from laughing.

Bruce cleared his throat and went on:

“’To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!’  
‘Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!’”

“You read that part good.”

“Thank you. Are you going to interrupt every two minutes?”

“Probably; I’m a kid.”

Alfred coughed violently and excused himself for a moment.

***  
“As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,  
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;  
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,  
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St. Nicholas too.  
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof  
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.”

Jason drummed one heel against the sofa, his other leg tucked under him as he sat beside Bruce and followed along with the old poem. “But I don’t get how he can carry all these presents around with him if he and the sleigh and the reindeer are so small.”

“We’re not really supposed to over think it,” Bruce said.

Jason sniffled and sneezed into a tissue. “Because it’s Christmas magic?”

“Something like that.”

“Works for me.” Jason drew up a comforter and got more comfortable as Bruce went on:

“As I drew in my head, and was turning around,  
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.  
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,  
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;  
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,  
And he looked like a pedler just opening his pack…”

***  
“You’re sure we shouldn’t be out on patrol?” Tim asked as Bruce paused for a moment.

“We’re good. Even The Joker takes a break on Christmas.”

“Well, okay then,” Tim said and scooted back on the sofa, attentive as Bruce read on:

“His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!  
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!  
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow  
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow…”

***  
“The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,  
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;  
He had a broad face and a little round belly,  
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly--”

Cass paused in her reading and looked at Bruce. “Is that right?”

He nodded. “You’re doing great. Want to keep going?”

She smiled and nodded. “He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf…”

***  
“And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;  
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,  
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;  
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,  
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk--”

“I bet I could give him something to dread,” Damian said in dire tones.

Dick rolled his eyes. “Rule number one: We don’t beat up Santa Claus.”

“Fact number one, Grayson: There is no Santa Claus.”

“Yeah, you think so? Well, let me tell you about this time Superman took me to the North Pole…”

***  
“Richard does the voices better.”

Bruce looked over the book at the odd child he had fathered. “There aren’t supposed to be any voices.”

“Richard does them.”

Bruce sighed and read on with Matches Malone’s Jersey accent:

“And laying his finger aside of his nose,  
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;  
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,  
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle--”

He looked at Damian again. “Better?”

The boy shrugged and pretended putting reindeer antlers on Titus was his chief concern at the moment.

***  
Alfred looked around the living room, lit with the warm glow of the fire and the lights on the trees as snow blew against the frosted windows. Thomas and Martha looked down from their portrait—and for a moment he hoped they really could see their son and the family he had built, all of them dozing in chairs and on the sofa.

“But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,” he read,  
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."

He closed the book and set it down on a table, and sat back in his own chair to enjoy the rare peace and quiet.


End file.
